


Miller's Ballad

by miss_tatiana



Category: Lost
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Gen, Resurrection, also on the major character death warning- sayid does die but he comes back dont worry, anyways i love them and their friendship so much, i was mad at how hurley and sayid have this great friendship and it wasnt really explored, its basically all canon just. with elaboration, like at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-20 15:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18527923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_tatiana/pseuds/miss_tatiana
Summary: 5 times sayid was too guarded to reciprocate hurley’s friendship + 1 time he didn’t have a choice on whether or not to.title references glenn miller's moonlight serenade.





	Miller's Ballad

**Author's Note:**

> as stated, the title is a reference to moonlight serenade by glenn miller, the ballad that plays on the radio in one of hurley and sayid's scenes together. it's a nice song for their friendship and sets the mood for this fic :')

1.

“Who were you with?” the man asked, getting comfortable next to him. 

Sayid set down what he was working on, and figured that if this man had the decency to seek him out just to tell him Sawyer was wrong about him, he should have the decency to tell the truth. “The Republican Guard,” he said. 

“Oh.” The man’s face changed slightly, but at least he wasn’t trying to hide it. Then he smiled. “That’s cool. That war was stupid anyway. On our part. It was just for money, or something. You guys were right.” 

“Thank you for the sentiment,” Sayid returned, and something in him wanted to smile back. He didn’t. 

“I’m Hurley,” the man said, and held out a hand before noticing both of Sayid’s were occupied with wires and dropping it. “I probably already said, but…”

“Hurley,” Sayid repeated, and he set down the transceiver to shake Hurley’s hand. “I’m Sayid.” 

“What are you making?”

Sayid looked at him and saw nothing but openness and a genuine smile. He also knew that they were in somewhat of a life and death situation, and that openness and a smile didn’t get you far in survival. So he’d be friendly, he just wouldn't make friends. He got too attached too quickly in the past, and he wasn't going to let that happen here. “It’s a transceiver,” he answered, “and I’m not making it, Jack found it in the cockpit. I’m just fixing it up so we can try to radio a distress call and get off this island.” 

Hurley looked down at the mess of wires. “Do you think it’s really going to work?”

“I have to hope,” Sayid said. “It rests more on whether we’re able to pick up a signal than on anything I have control over. We might be in a zone of radio silence; without any strong fields.” 

“I don’t think so,” Hurley said, and he sounded sure. 

“Why?” Sayid asked. “If no one has picked up the signal from the black box it could mean that-” 

“No, there’s- radio fields, or whatever.” Hurley nodded, looking serious. “Had an old friend in the Navy stationed in the Pacific. He used to monitor signals from out here somewhere. Just- trust me. You’ll be able to send a message.”

Sayid stared at him. “Thank you for the reassurance.” The change in Hurley’s attitude - laid back and jovial to tense - was unsettling, so he figured he’d change the subject. “Are you looking forward to getting rescued?”

Hurley relaxed visibly, and the smile reappeared on his face. “Like you don’t even know, dude. No, I… I got into this fight with my dad. Right before I left. Can’t wait to tell him I’m sorry, you know?”

Sayid nodded. He had a lot of people to apologize to. With most of them, he’d never get the chance. 

“Well, I trust you,” Hurley declared. “I think your trans-whatever is going to work and you’re going to get us all home.” 

Sayid couldn’t catch his smile that time. 

“Hey, listen, I’m building a big fire so we can all have dinner together tonight,” Hurley continued. “There’s a spot for you, if you want it.” 

Sayid did want it. Hurley was easy to talk to, and Sayid hadn’t had an easy conversation in a long time, not to mention he was finding himself wishing he knew Hurley before the crash. He seemed wonderful to spend time with. But he couldn’t. He was already pushing how much friendly small talk he allowed himself. He knew that they wouldn’t all get off the island, so he’d try as best he could to spare himself the pain of making friends and getting attached. “Thank you, but no. I have to work on this.” 

“You could bring it with you,” Hurley suggested. 

“No, I’m…” Sayid tried to come up with an excuse. He couldn’t. “I shouldn’t.” 

Hurley nodded. “Right. Okay.” He stood up. “Well, I’ll see you around.” He put a hand on Sayid’s shoulder before walking off. 

“See you around,” Sayid echoed, and tried to focus on what he was doing with the transceiver. He couldn’t help but feel bad for turning Hurley down.

2.

Sayid had only been back around an hour. He’d told everyone about the voices he’d heard in the trees and about the people Rousseau had warned him about. He’d given the maps he stole to Jack until they could figure out how to translate them. He hadn’t seen Hurley yet, and, despite his exhaustion and panic, he was getting worried. 

He stood outside his shelter, watching the beach. The sun was beginning to set. When Hurley appeared around the bend with Rose, the sight of one of the only people he trusted and one he was starting to reluctantly call a friend was such a good one that he almost ran over to him. He didn’t, of course. 

Hurley did. He sprinted across the beach, kicking up sand behind him. When he reached Sayid he pulled him into a hug, lifting him off the ground. “Sayid! You’re back,” he exclaimed into Sayid’s shoulder.

“I’m back,” Sayid replied. That much contact on his electricity burns wasn’t pleasant, but he didn’t even care. It was such a relief to know that Hurley was safe, and that someone had really missed him. 

Hurley finally put him down. “You okay? You look…”

Exhausted? Terrified? Whatever Hurley was thinking, he was kind enough not to say it. “I’m fine,” Sayid answered, and gave him a smile. He reasoned that it probably wasn’t wise to mention that due to either the disorientation from the electroshocks or the panic he felt in the jungle or both, he was pretty sure he was scared of the dark now. 

“You sure?” Hurley looked worried. 

Sayid felt bad. “Yes, I’m sure.” 

“Good.” Hurley smiled, and didn’t seem any less upset. “Hey, do you mind if I stay with you tonight?”

“I don’t need-”

“I know, not for you. For me.”

Sayid nodded slowly. “Alright.” He knew it really was for him - Hurley was a terrible liar - and he felt very much like a burden, but he let Hurley follow him into his shelter anyway. 

They started a fire, and Hurley brought his blankets over and arranged them opposite Sayid’s. The sky darkened, and night fell fully. 

Sayid couldn’t fathom how grateful he was to Hurley. He’d been dreading spending the night without anyone to talk to for fear that, in silence, the voices would return. He knew that he should thank Hurley. He wanted to, very badly. But he looked at Hurley and he couldn’t shake Nadia, and his brother, and Essam, and everyone else he’d been silly enough to love. He didn’t speak much that night, too scared of the fact that yes, Hurley was his friend, to focus on conversation. He let Hurley talk him to sleep just as the sun started to rise over the ocean without giving a single word’s thanks.

3.

“There’s something there!” Sayid exclaimed, desperately fiddling with the homemade radio dish. It was late - almost too late - but he’d finally finished his project, this much stronger receiving dish. “Did you hear that?”

“I heard it.” Hurley was laughing, which Sayid had come to recognize as something he did when he was excited, or in disbelief. He was also smiling ear to ear. 

There was certainly static, which was definitely a good sign, but Sayid could have sworn that for a moment he’d picked up a real signal. It was such a foreign thrill. He could picture tapping into a Naval ship’s communications, maybe, or coast guard. It was possible that their time on the island was finally coming to a close. 

After nearly too long, he got the dish positioned to point in just the right direction, and held his breath. 

Slowly, airily,  _ Moonlight Serenade _ floated out over the beach. The song was broken up lightly by some static, but, ultimately, was almost untouched. Nothing could have more beautifully framed the stripe of moonlight rippling on the water, or the thousands of stars in the sky. The music wove into the crackling of their fire. 

And even though rescue had seemed so close, Sayid wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. It was beautiful; he was shocked by the beauty of it. He sat in the sand next to Hurley, and listened to the song. 

“Is it from somewhere close?” Hurley asked after a while, quietly, so as not to drown out the music. 

“Due to the nature of the radio dish, it could be coming from almost anywhere,” Sayid murmured. “And due to the nature of radio waves, it could be coming from any time, too.” 

Hurley nodded, and looked out over the ocean. He was sort of grimacing, scrunching up his nose. 

Sayid wondered distantly - the song made everything feel distant - if he’d said something wrong. 

“We’re not alone,” Hurley said, wiping at his eyes. He smiled. “We’re not alone.” 

Sayid nodded, and for the first time since Shannon, he felt tears come to his eyes. He blinked them away. He marveled at how there was music that could make you cry. Then he thought that maybe it was the stars, and instead marveled at how stars could make you cry. Really, he knew it wasn’t quite either. 

He wanted to say not only that Hurley was his friend - his best friend - but that he loved him, because, watching the sky and hearing music for the first time in months, he realized that he did. Hurley reminded him of his brother- he had the same softness and innocence, the same love for being gentle, the same aversion to violence. However Hurley was somehow both less flawed and more human than Omar was, and it was a wonder. Hurley had tried to console him after Shannon’s death, even though Sayid had made it hard. And no matter how unapproachable he made himself, Hurley was still there. He was immeasurably grateful. 

And he couldn’t find the words to say it. He, who prided himself on a wide vocabulary in multiple languages, couldn’t figure out how to articulate a simple thank you and a simple I love you.

He reasoned that a part of it, deep down, was self preservation. He didn’t want to be hurt when something inevitably happened. It was repulsive. That wasn’t all of it, though, not really. The rest he attributed to never having had a friend like Hurley before, and not quite knowing what to do with the openness of it. 

They sat side by side in silence, listening to the song, and the fire, and the brush of gentle waves on the shore. 

Sayid came to terms with the fact that he was never going to be able to make contact with the real world, and he let the song keep playing. The battery would die eventually, and probably pretty soon, and it would be fine. At least it had given them a song.

4.

Since Nadia passed, Sayid had made an unmovable resolution not to contact anyone from the plane. Wherever the rest of the Oceanic six ended up was none of his business. He did dark, awful work for Ben Linus, and after two years, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he made up his mind to tell Ben he was leaving. That night, Ben told him he didn’t need him anymore. 

He hadn’t expected that, and it left him feeling stranded. He ran away, as far away as his surplus of money would take him. He discarded his phone and stopped renting out his apartment, leaving behind anything that could be used to contact or find him. He paid the dues for all the things he’d done, building houses and hospitals and schools in Central America until his hands bled. 

It was about two months into his work there that he realized he was happy. Not outstandingly or remarkably happy, but happy. Content, perhaps, was a better word for it. He looked forward to his work every morning, and he started to love the new calluses on his hands. He missed people now and then, but not terribly. He missed Tikrit a lot. It was odd how he wouldn’t miss people badly, but he missed places that reminded him of people. 

It wasn’t heartbreaking overall, though. He figured that it must be what healing felt like. 

Then Ben found him again, and told him that he had to come back to the island. That Widmore was after it, and his friends as well. Sayid spat ugly words at him, made hideous threats, and wondered why he had to care about that place. He’d never met Widmore. He didn’t give a shit about that island, much less about who ran it. And yet, his friends were in danger. 

Something jumped up in him at the thought of seeing them again, despite his resolution not to. He wouldn’t break his word for Jack, that was for sure, and definitely not for Kate and Sun, who had better things to worry about in the forms of their children. But for Hurley, who he still no matter how foolishly considered his best friend, it would break in a heartbeat. 

He finished his for for that day and took a plane to LA that night, searching for everything he could find on Widmore during his flight. When the plane touched down he picked up garments of his old uniform - a midnight, inconspicuous black - that he could use to be nigh unseen when necessary. He also bought a pistol. 

He didn’t know how little stress his life with Habitat for Humanity gave him until he was back in what felt like a warzone. He had to find Hurley. Make sure he was safe. If he wasn’t, take him somewhere that was. It shouldn’t be that hard, but Sayid had let people slip through his fingers before. 

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t kill anyone again, but to keep Hurley safe, he found himself glad to break that promise. 

He got the mental hospital as quickly as possible, and his heart sank when he saw the car parked outside. He might be too late. As he ran toward the car, he made sure the safety on the pistol was off. 

By the time he’d gotten past the hospital’s security system, he was positive he didn’t have any blood on his clothes. He didn’t want to scare Hurley. 

He picked the lock to Hurley’s room, pushed the door open, saw Hurley standing by the window, and froze. A dozen apologies popped into his head. I’m sorry I disappeared, I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch, I’m sorry we might have to go back, I’m sorry I’m terrible at speaking when it matters. He didn’t say any of them. Instead, he was quiet long enough for Hurley to speak first. 

And what Hurley said was, “You too?” He turned fully from the window and looked at Sayid. He ran a hand over his face, blinked a few times, and started to cry. 

“What are you talking about?” Sayid felt cold. Maybe there really was a reason Hurley was put away in the hospital. “Hurley, we have to go.” 

“Back to the island, I know.” Hurley sniffed. “Charlie told me.”

“What? But Charlie’s-”

“Wait.” Hurley squinted at him. “Are you- are you not? Are you alive?”

“Of course I am,” Sayid said slowly. 

“Oh my god!” Hurley ran to him, hugging him too tightly. “I thought- thank god.” He mumbled something in Spanish. 

Sayid hugged him back, grabbing handfuls of his bathrobe and holding onto him. “I thought you’d be dead too. There was a man outside the building, watching you.” 

“What?” Hurley took a step back. 

“He’s gone, don’t worry,” Sayid promised. “I took care of it.” 

“It’s so good to see you,” Hurley said, and he was still sort of crying, but he was laughing now too. 

“I’m so glad you’re alive,” Sayid replied, even though he wanted to say more. They weren’t even in any immediate danger now, so there was no chance of possibly losing Hurley. It was more habit now than anything else. It was easier not to say things. “We have to go, I have a safe spot at a motel.”

“Um, I sort of have to stay-”

“Hurley-”

“Alright, let me get clothes on,” Hurley muttered, changing his bathrobe out for a jacket. “Okay.” 

Sayid nodded, and stopped Hurley at the door. “I’m going to try to keep you safe,” he said, before leading Hurley out of the room, hoping it was easy to translate to the intended ‘you’re my best friend and I can’t lose you and I love you’.

5.

Never, not in a million years, did Sayid think he’d die before Hurley. He was trained, he’d been surviving for years, and logically it shouldn’t happen this way. He was so glad it would. 

He was a soldier. He knew when a wound was fatal. He could tell that the bullet in him was going to kill him, and he could only hope that he’d at least get to know whether the bomb worked successfully before it did. He clung to the canvas of Hurley’s jumpsuit in the back of the van, and every bump in the road hurt. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Hurley kept murmuring. “It’s going to be okay.” 

Sayid appreciated the sentiment, and was proud that Hurley, who when they first met would faint at the sight of blood, was trying to stop the bleeding at his ribs as best he could. He shook his head gently. 

“Sayid,” Hurley said. 

“Hurley,” Sayid returned, wincing. “You have to make sure the bomb goes off, alright? You have to-” 

“I have to make sure you make it, man,” Hurley said, and he put a hand to Sayid’s forehead, letting it trail back into his hair. 

“Stay alive,” Sayid told him, and slowly, it dawned on him that this would be the last chance he’d ever get to tell him anything. 

His vision was starting to blink and blur, fading slowly and raggedly away. He couldn’t make himself keep holding onto Hurley’s clothes, and his hand dropped down to the floor of the van. He couldn’t really feel his fingers, and shock was beginning to lessen the pain around the bullet. He didn’t think that was a good thing, but he couldn’t think that well now anyways. 

And if he was going to say any of the things he’d been not saying for the past three years, he had to do it now. He tried to find Hurley’s arm again, something to hold on to, but he couldn’t move enough. It was surprisingly easy not to panic. 

He wanted to say how much he loved Hurley, and that Hurley was the best friend he ever could have asked for. Hurley, he was completely sure, had made him a much better person, even if he didn’t quite show it. He thought it was still in his power to talk, and he almost did. 

But then he realized that by saying those things, he’d be making his passing that much harder for Hurley. It would be cruel to give him those sentiments and then die. It wouldn’t be fair. He decided that Hurley didn’t deserve that, that he couldn’t do that to him, and that he’d just have to keep carrying what he’d been carrying for the last few years. 

His head was in Hurley’s lap now, even though he hadn’t registered being moved. He tried to focus on Hurley’s face above him. He’d never deserved Hurley’s friendship, not once. He wished he could move a little more. 

He could tell he was about to pass out, and he knew he wouldn’t wake back up. He could only hope that the bomb would go off. He smiled up at Hurley so he couldn’t worry as much, and tried speaking some of his love in Arabic, so Hurley wouldn’t understand it. He said that Hurley had made him a happier man. He said that Hurley was his most beloved person still living. 

“I can’t-” Hurley was distressed, panicking. “I don’t understand, can you- Sayid, English.”

Sayid mumbled that he loved him. He vaguely heard Hurley begging him to translate it, and he felt unspeakably tired. 

He figured it couldn’t hurt to close his eyes. 

\+ 1. 

“You’re alive,” Hurley said, for the third time since Sayid woke up. 

Jack had gone to try and get some information from the man who presided over the temple, and the two of them were now alone in the room with the pool. The water was constantly moving, bubbling up and being pulled down. It was a rusty brown color. Maybe it had never been clean. 

Sayid tore his eyes from the water and let them find Hurley. He knew he knew the man across the pool from him. He knew that Hurley had crashed with him on this island, years ago, and that they’d had a rather convoluted acquaintance. It wasn’t that he couldn't remember him, no. He could remember everything, especially the happiness he linked with Hurley, that he felt whenever he was with who he used to consider his best friend, and that was the worst part. Because now, he couldn’t feel any of it. “I’m alive,” he answered. 

“You’re not, like, a zombie or anything, right?” Hurley seemed genuinely worried. 

“No, I’m not a zombie.” Sayid put a finger to his throat. “My heart is beating. Zombie’s hearts don’t beat, do they?”

“Guess not,” Hurley said, and he didn’t sound very reassured. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” Sayid replied. “I’m perfectly fine.” 

Hurley sighed. He got up and walked around the pool, sitting back down right next to sayid. He stared at him for a moment, his face twisted up into some sort of pained grimace - he might be about to cry - and then pulled him into a hug. 

Sayid’s body knew he should hug Hurley back. All the muscle memory in him was telling him to, but he didn’t. There wasn’t really a reason to. At least, not one he cared to think up. He knew he should feel bad. He didn’t. 

Hurley let him go and sighed again, looking into the pool. “You’re going to get better,” he said, and it was with a surety that didn’t come from knowledge but from blind hope. 

Sayid could tell Hurley was upset, but didn’t feel a need to try and cheer him up or comfort him. He hated that he didn’t, but he couldn’t change it. “Perhaps,” he said, instead of any reassurance. “I’m not hurt now. 

“I know, but you’re not…” Hurley shrugged. “It’s okay.”

Sayid nodded.

There was another moment of silence, and Hurley said, “You don’t- owe me anything, but did you know I saved your life?”

Sayid looked over at him. He hadn’t known that. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” Hurley waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.” He twiddled his thumbs for a beat before asking, “You still remember everything, right? Like, you know who I am?”

“Of course,” Sayid told him. “Why would I forget?”

“I don’t know. With the resurrection- I thought maybe- because you’re acting sort of…” After a moment, Hurley shook his head. He looked hurt. “Forget it. It’s probably me, man. I’ve had a weird week, I’m probably just- picking up on the wrong things.”

Sayid nodded. “Sure.” 

Hurley just stared for another minute. Then he said, “Hey, listen, you probably need some rest. You stay here and try to sleep, okay? I have to… go and- find Jack. Or something.” He stood and gently laid a hand on Sayid’s shoulder for a second. It seemed he left the room as quickly as he could without actually running. 

Upon seeing him leave, Sayid’s memories cobbled together some kind of patchwork, synthetic sadness. It was association, at least, but it was so vague. It was clearly a memory of a feeling, not a feeling itself. 

He pictured Hurley, and remembered every interaction they’d had with relative clarity. He remembered all the brave things Hurley had done, and all the brave things they’d done together. He knew that Hurley used to be his best friend. He knew that he used to love him, and very dearly at that. He knew everything about how he used to feel with sharp, obvious accuracy. He just didn’t feel any of it anymore. 

**Author's Note:**

> if u want to talk lost with me my lost blog is @sunhwa-sunshine on tumblr!


End file.
